The Idea Of Death

This is something I thought I'd share from a couple of weeks ago. Back in October, we lost a sweet soul on this Earth. This loss triggered so many emotions inside of me and brought me back to all the moments I'd felt this way before. Reminding me of experiences that made me truly question the idea of death and the "why"'s of it all. The frustration and confusion of it. The sting of it. The sadness. The process of losing someone, and the painful reality that follows. So after some deep thought and heartache, I felt prompted to write about it.

Papa, Eme, Lutz, and Mr. M, this one's for you.

Recently over the weekend, a young freshman girl in my sorority was killed in a fatal car crash that claimed her life. In the late hours of Saturday night, a family's entire world was ripped to pieces. The lives of those she loved completely altered forever. Upon receiving this news in our chapter's Sunday email the next morning, I felt a cold shock catch my body as I re-read the email over and over again.

It just did not seem real. It couldn't be. It felt so close.

A young girl in our chapter had died. A sister that was a part of the same sorority I hold so near and dear to my own heart was gone. A freshman girl starting her brand new confusing, yet exciting college journey miles away from the comfort of her home for the first time ever. The same exact spot I was in less than two years ago. That could have been me, I remember thinking. That could have been any of us. But I did not think that selfishly. I thought that in the sense that we all believe death is avoidable to us personally.

We do. We all believe it could never happen to us. There's just no way, right? That person will never be us.

We go to an expensive college, cheer on a big football team, and attend social events with all of our friends. That stuff just doesn't happen to people like me. We are all guilty of thinking this at one point or another, aren't we? I'm right there with you. Life feels too real. As hard as it is to admit, I think those things too. Often. We never pay attention to the ultimate consequence this world could bring us until we're shaken awake. Until it reminds us. Otherwise, we ignore it. We push it away. We run from it. We convince ourselves things like that only happen to people far outside of our towns and circles.

But Sunday as I got that email, I was quickly reminded just how real of a thing it is.

Just how real an 18-year-old girl dying before she could enjoy the best years of her life are. Just how real a college student leaving her family for a degree and never returning home to hug her parents one last time is. Because death is real. And it hit me. Death does not discriminate. Life that we know is short. It can be snatched from us in an instant. It is absolutely unavoidable. How utterly depressing and hopeless of a thought is that? How real can that be? The idea of it gripped me so hard and wouldn't let go.

In the midst of driving to our chapter meeting tonight specifically dedicated to Eme, our own sweet sister, I was internally distraught. Not because I knew her closely or personally, grieving on the level that her close friends and family did, but simply because I grieved her short, young life. The loss of something so beautiful. I grieved the idea of that girl being me, my best friend, or my sister. I grieved the relevance and the realness of it.

I grieved for her, and all the things in life she was going to miss. I grieved the thought of losing someone so new to this world; A world she barely knew yet. It was so hard for me to grasp. The idea that the same freshman girl that I was only years before, would never get to wake up in the comfort of her own dorm room ever again. She would never laugh with her friends. She would never attend another sorority event with her sisters, she would never be able to hear her mom's voice through the phone hours away, and she would never get to encounter the joys of fully growing up and experiencing life. The joys of graduating, falling in love, getting married, or having kids.

All the things that we, as young women, so deeply anticipate. It was heartbreaking. Just simply the thought of it crippled me to my core. And the worst part is, she never knew. She never knew Saturday would be her last breath on earth. She never knew she was moments from her final time behind a wheel. She just never knew. We all never know. That's the scariest part. We take life for granted. We never think it could be us. We forget to appreciate all the things we assume will always be there.

I was sitting in our chapter room listening to our president talk about her, and my heart weighed a million pounds. The mere idea of her family getting that phone call shattered me to pieces and left me nauseous. My body felt numb in my chair. Because for the first time in a long time, the idea of a death so close to me and so relevant to my own life felt real. It felt close. A college world that I get so easily caught-up & lost in, sometimes losing my sense of reality, suddenly felt so small and scary. I began to remember that no fraternity party, no big exam, no Auburn football game or new college adventure could protect me from avoiding the reality of death being real. Death being there. It could only distract me from it.While leaving the chapter room and walking to my car, I thought in silence.

I thought about the night I held my best friend in my arms as she screamed and sobbed for her dad at the top of her lungs until she physically couldn't anymore. A heap of pure pain and agonizing sorrow. An unrecognizable, shattered heart. It was gut-wrenching to witness. Truly unexplainable. I remembered the sudden hit of reality that night when I, too, realized he was gone forever. It was real. Just like that. In a second. Without a goodbye or a warning. Leaving her, and those he loved, in complete ruins.

One of the most amazing Christian men you would have ever gotten the opportunity to know, and he was gone.

A man with the warmest smile and biggest heart.

Gone from his family.

Gone from a daughter who desperately needed him. A daughter who would spend years of her life figuring out who she was without him, and how she would survive it all alone.

And I knew holding her that night that nothing from then on would ever be the same again. She would never be the same again. And for weeks after, I found myself laying in bed at night, wide-awake, sobbing and asking God why. Why did things like this happen to people. Why did it have to hurt so much. Naturally, I shared the same sorrow and heartache that my best friend did, because I loved her. Because with everything in me, I knew it wasn't fair. And because it changed my life. I had never heard the sound of true heartbreak and pain until that night. It will stick with me forever. I will never forget it. Because it was real. It was one of the rawest things I had ever witnessed. And as I stood back and watched, I knew I could do absolutely nothing in my power to fix it. I could do nothing to take it away or make it better.

That broke me. I could only watch someone I loved with all my heart suffer the deepest kind of pain. A pain that never truly goes away.

Later that same night, I walked up to my dad latching onto him tightly and not letting go. I buried my face into his chest and quietly cried. He held me close and softly whispered, "Let's go take a walk." We began walking, and he looked down at me with eyes that had seen all sides of pain, and joy, throughout the years. I asked him why things like this happened, and why God would allow it. I just didn't understand. I firmly believed he was a God of love, so why? It didn't make sense. My dad gave me a sad smile and quietly replied, "We don't know why they happen, Lan. We never will. Because sadly, that's just life." He continued, "And life can be painful. And it can be unfair. But what we do know is that we serve a God of purpose. And where we are wrong, is trying to question and understand the same God who positioned the stars in the sky and put the earth into motion. We have to trust and remember that his love is unfailing for us."

I looked up at the sky and felt a mixture of shame and confusion. It took me years after to finally understand what my dad was saying that night.

That was the first time in my life that I had truly questioned God's intentions.

I had never gotten the chance to experience and witness sorrow like that before. It was a whole new type of sadness that I never actually knew. One that God needed me to see in order to understand that his love on this earth would never be easy. It would never be without low valleys and high mountaintops. We would always find a reason to push it away or be angry. We would always hurt encountering something we feel like we don't deserve.

But, amidst the confusion, his love will always be purposeful. It will always be worth it. It will always be for our own good. And it will always win. Because even at our darkest moments, God's love is what saves us. Even when we don't understand it.

I then thought about the day I was driving home from class back to my dorm when I got the call that my precious papa had passed away. A call that I never thought would come. A call that I just didn't think could be true. I sat there in my car and physically could not fight the tears and the aching; it completely overtook me. The man I spent so many summers with, most holidays with, who taught me to tie my shoes, fish, love Jesus, and love others, was just...gone. So suddenly. One of my biggest mentors and role models from the youngest age. A man whose heart was so pure and intentions always true. A man who fought every day with a smile on his face to make the best of a disease that slowly crippled him. He was so strong. I always admired his strength. I admired the way he loved. I admired his gentleness with others.

And I just always thought he'd be there. I took advantage of that. For years as I grew older, I never truly processed the potential of losing him. But in that moment, unable to resist, I thought back to the last time I saw him. Of course, having no idea it was the last time. Not appreciating his presence there like I should've. Not spending just one more minute. Not loving on him a little bit more. Not giving him one last bear hug to remind him the infinite love I had for him; a love that I still to this day deeply cherish and carry with me. There was so much guilt. So much pain. That was a hard one for me to let go of for some time. Knowing I could've done maybe a little bit more. It was a hard reality for me to swallow. That someone I loved so much was here one day and gone the next.

Then I thought back to the day I was sitting in church and got the text that one of my dad's favorite football players, an incredible person on and off the field, and a man very special and close to my family, had been killed in a car wreck. A man who loved the Lord with everything in him, and lived every day proving that. A man who genuinely understood the idea of true leadership, and the importance of showing God's heart to others. Leaving a legacy so extremely powerful and influential to thousands. One that has slowly helped heal his family, and friends, from the sudden loss of such a phenomenal son, brother, and companion. The loss of someone so special to this world. An instantaneous tragedy; and a seemingly senseless one. One that no one ever saw coming.

With all of this thinking, I became deeply saddened. It hurt. The idea of loss itself hurt. The idea that life can be so short and minuscule hurt. The idea that in a second someone we love so much could be gone just, HURT. I honestly felt hopeless. It was physically painful for me to think about. But even as I drove home in silence, I still could never bring myself to ask God "why?" Because through all that I've learned so far in life, I've realized that we will never truly understand why. We just won't. We can't. It might not ever make sense. God has His reasons and that's just it. That's all we can know. That's all we can put our hope and trust in. That God is filled to the brim with overflowing love and compassion for those he purposely created and loves. For us. His purposeful and unfailing love for us. One that goes beyond boundaries. A love that wants the absolute best for our lives, regardless of circumstance. A love with a depth and purpose that isn't always understandable. A love with a plan exceedingly greater than the one we see and perceive. It's immeasurable. One that carries us and gives us faith. Because faith isn't simple. Faith is our anchor during the roughest of storms. Faith is our solid, sturdy ground. Faith is believing that even when we have no control, we still have shelter. We still have hope. We still are protected. And even though I am fully confident and aware of His gracious & comforting promises for us, I still couldn't help but feel extremely saddened by the idea of death in that moment. Its loss is so cruel and merciless. It's so frustrating and confusing. It's heartbreaking. And my mind seemed stuck.

But, as I felt the tears fall fast down my face, I heard God whisper to me so clearly in that moment: "But I beat it"

And immediately through the silence, I felt a wave of comfort wash over me. Because all of a sudden, I realized... that's just it. Jesus beat it. Jesus beat death. Forever. And once again, I was faithfully reminded of the eternal gift of true hope that we all received selflessly that day on the cross. Nails and thorns marked our freedom from death. His blood marked our forgiveness. His body took our place. Jesus overcame the ending that day. He took away our period, our end, and put an eternity of life behind it. He conquered the permanent and made it temporary. He overruled it. He made it possible for death to be life, and for the end to be the beginning. For it to be our new beginning. Spent forever with Him in a place of paradise. A life full of perfection and lacking pain.

So, just as I felt death as something scary and powerful, I was reminded that death was defeated. Death was made weak. Death was made powerless. Jesus beat it. He beat it for us. For us to be able to grieve for only a short period of time, and then no more. For us to be able to have hope. For us to be able to spend eternity loving Him. Because He loved us enough to share that reality with us. The reality that death is not our end, but our beginning. Because the idea of sharing His forever with the ones He so brutally died for, was enough to break the bonds that death had on us. It was enough to render it powerless.

So, that is why, in Jesus name, death is no more.

So that we can live.

And so that we will.

"I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life. This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us." — 1 John 5:13-14

"Jesus said to her, 'I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?'" — John 11:25-26

It's Time To Thank Your First Roommate

Nostalgic feelings have recently caused me to reflect back on my freshman year of college. No other year of my life has been filled with more ups and downs, and highs and lows, than freshman year. Throughout all of the madness, one factor remained constant: my roommate. It is time to thank her for everything. These are only a few of the many reasons to do so, and this goes for roommates everywhere.

You have been through all the college "firsts" together.

If you think about it, your roommate was there through all of your first college experiences. The first day of orientation, wishing you luck on the first days of classes, the first night out, etc. That is something that can never be changed. You will always look back and think, "I remember my first day of college with ____."

You were even each other's first real college friend.

You were even each other's first real college friend.

Months before move-in day, you were already planning out what freshman year would be like. Whether you previously knew each other, met on Facebook, or arranged to meet in person before making any decisions, you made your first real college friend during that process.

The transition from high school to college is not easy, but somehow you made it out on the other side.

It is no secret that transitioning from high school to college is difficult. No matter how excited you were to get away from home, reality hit at some point. Although some people are better at adjusting than others, at the times when you were not, your roommate was there to listen. You helped each other out, and made it through together.

Late night talks were never more real.

Remember the first week when we stayed up talking until 2:00 a.m. every night? Late night talks will never be more real than they were freshman year. There was so much to plan for, figure out, and hope for. Your roommate talked, listened, laughed, and cried right there with you until one of you stopped responding because sleep took over.

You saw each other at your absolute lowest.

It was difficult being away from home. It hurt watching relationships end and losing touch with your hometown friends. It was stressful trying to get in the swing of college level classes. Despite all of the above, your roommate saw, listened, and strengthened you.

...but you also saw each other during your highest highs.

After seeing each other during the lows, seeing each other during the highs was such a great feeling. Getting involved on campus, making new friends, and succeeding in classes are only a few of the many ways you have watched each other grow.

There was so much time to bond before the stresses of college would later take over.

Freshman year was not "easy," but looking back on it, it was more manageable than you thought at the time. College only gets busier the more the years go on, which means less free time. Freshman year you went to lunch, dinner, the gym, class, events, and everything else possible together. You had the chance to be each other's go-to before it got tough.

No matter what, you always bounced back to being inseparable.

Phases of not talking or seeing each other because of business and stress would come and go. Even though you physically grew apart, you did not grow apart as friends. When one of you was in a funk, as soon as it was over, you bounced right back. You and your freshman roommate were inseparable.

The "remember that one time, freshman year..." stories never end.

Looking back on freshman year together is one of my favorite times. There are so many stories you have made, which at the time seemed so small, that bring the biggest laughs today. You will always have those stories to share together.

The unspoken rule that no matter how far apart you grow, you are always there for each other.

It is sad to look back and realize everything that has changed since your freshman year days. You started college with a clean slate, and all you really had was each other. Even though you went separate ways, there is an unspoken rule that you are still always there for each other.

Your old dorm room is now filled with two freshmen trying to make it through their first year. They will never know all the memories that you made in that room, and how it used to be your home. You can only hope that they will have the relationship you had together to reflect on in the years to come.

Beautiful: Nine Letters, Infinite Meanings

While anxiously waiting for my show to turn back on during a commercial break, one commercial specifically caught my eye. It starting out with a blonde-haired woman, standing proud with a noticeable scar down her nose. As they flip to some clips of a diverse set of women, a power voice begins to speak. The first line immediately took hold of my attention.

"Beautiful, one word that holds the weight of thousands. We collect false promises, contorting ourselves to fit inside those letters"

The commercial captures a diverse set of women as they confidently exemplify their own beauty in a day to day setting. In doing so, they are encouraging individuals to redefine what beauty really is, in this case, through appearance. Macy's is sending the message to their buyers that their products provide individuals the opportunity to express themselves in whatever way they want with their new spring collection. By going beyond the boundaries that are socially installed our expectations are expanded.

As silly as it sounds, the Macy's advertisement made me think. It made me think of the concept of beauty, and how we perceive it.

Beauty to us is a social construct. You scroll through your feed of bronzed, tall and thin figures and you are fed to think that she is the one and only form of beauty worth striving for. You look in the mirror and pick out your flaws and imperfections thinking that it lessens your beauty. We are taught to believe that beautiful has one meaning and that definition cannot stray from the cover of a magazine.

But in reality, Beauty is fluid. It is what you want it to be. It is an appearance. It is a perception. It is imperfect.